


Break

by fandomonymous



Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomonymous/pseuds/fandomonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take a break. Break off to start a game of snooker. Break the rules. Break down your own internal walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break

 

**To:[](http://louis-quatorze.livejournal.com/profile)[ **louis_quatorze**](http://louis-quatorze.livejournal.com/)**  
 **From:[](http://fandomonymous.livejournal.com/profile)[ **fandomonymous**](http://fandomonymous.livejournal.com/)**

 

 

 **Title:** Break  
 **Words:** ~2000  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing:** Philipp Lahm/Andreas Ottl  
 **Summary:** Take a break. Break off to start a game of snooker. Break the rules. Break down your own internal walls.  
 **A/N:** A gift for [](http://louis-quatorze.livejournal.com/profile)[**louis_quatorze**](http://louis-quatorze.livejournal.com/) for [](http://valentinesplay.livejournal.com/profile)[**valentinesplay**](http://valentinesplay.livejournal.com/) , filling [this prompt](http://touchline.livejournal.com/727.html?thread=146647#t146647) at [](http://touchline.livejournal.com/profile)[**touchline**](http://touchline.livejournal.com/). This probably un-anon's me in the process. Oops. Lots of thanks to [](http://wh-mermaid.livejournal.com/profile)[**wh_mermaid**](http://wh-mermaid.livejournal.com/) for a lovely beta, and the various Bayern fans in my life for being a bunch of enablers.

Philipp hears the final whistle and sighs in relief. Another day, another good result, a win to power them through the insanity that will be the next few weeks. Yes, Bayern are doing well, honestly an amazing season so far - but it's only a matter of time before the other shoe drops, and if it'll happen at any point, seven matches in three weeks sounds like the right moment. And it's not just the matches - there's travel as well, and training, and press conferences, and strategy meetings. Just thinking about it wears him down more than the football itself.

A tap on the shoulder jolts Philipp out of his reverie, and he jumps to see who it is. "Oh!"

It's Andreas, already topless, offering his shirt. Philipp bites his lip, taking off his own shirt to trade, trying not to focus on arms and shoulders and collarbones and -

Andreas has pulled Philipp into an embrace, friendly with an undertone of fierceness. "We're meeting up for beer and then snooker later, yeah? The usual place?"

Philipp can only nod, breathing deeply. Andreas smells like grass and musk and yet it's not unpleasant, this split second long break from the world around them.

 

 

They're at a beer garden, one of Andreas' favorites, with a spread of cheese, sausage, pretzels, and intensely complex beer. The sun is setting, bathing the dark wooden tables in warm light.

"I missed this, you know," Andreas says, looking out at the crowd of people. "Berlin's beautiful, but it's nothing like Munich."

Philipp nods, spearing a bit of sausage in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, appreciating the snap of the casing. He hadn't wanted Andreas to leave, but he knew not playing had been rough on him. It was one of the things they never really talked about, the difference between their careers despite starting in the same place.

"And I missed you. No one else puts up with my shit like you do," and here Andreas is grinning, and Philipp can't help but chuckle, and can't help but admire the crow's feet at the edges of Andreas' eyes. "Besides, no one at Hertha plays snooker."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sucks, doesn't it? Can't find a single good bottle of beer, can't find a decent strudel, and no one to play snooker with."

Philipp laughs. "You're such a foodie."

"Gotta get in all the calories to fuel a proper workout, right?"

"Heh, I guess so." Philipp sighs. "I can't find anyone else to play with either, you know. Makes having a table in my basement kind of a waste."

"Just gives me an excuse to come back."

"What, my friendship and loyalty not enough for you?" Philipp laughs again. He doesn't remember the last time he's laughed like this - probably not since before Andreas left. He mocks shock and grief. "I'm so hurt that I mean so little to you, Andi."

Andreas laughs, shaking his head. "Man, I missed you. It's good to see you."

 

 

They're back at Philipp's place now, and Andreas is racking the balls to begin the first frame. Philipp watches, leaning back against the wall, cue in hand. Andreas lines up for the break, his form as good as ever, back nearly parallel to the table and bent at a right angle, hand splayed out before him to rest the cue.

Philipp bites his lip, watching Andreas, muscles in motion.

Andreas pockets a red ball, then walks around the table to angle himself - looks like he's going for the pink next. "I meant it when I said I missed you. You were right - football friendships are the exception, not the rule nowadays."

"Mm."

The pink ball slides into the corner pocket with ease. "So what have you been up to while I've been all homesick up north?"

"Ehn, you know, the usual," Philipp brushes off. "Football, training, keeping management from fucking us over. The next few weeks should be...interesting."

"Seven matches, right? I do have to say, if there's one thing I don't miss, it's the match load. It's almost a relief to not work three competitions, just focus on doing as well as we can in the Bundesliga."

"Mmph." Another day, Philipp would admit he relishes the competition, the chance to play, the chance to win at the highest level. For now, it seems to be moot.

Andreas makes the next red simply enough, but his next shot doesn't quite have the power to pocket the blue. He frowns. "Man, I've lost my touch."

"It happens." Philipp goes up to the table, cue in hand. There's a red that will be easy to pocket, but it'll put him in a bad position for the black he'd want next. He figures it's worth the risk, and lines up for the shot. It slides in simply enough, and he walks around the table, trying to angle himself properly for the next shot.

Philipp wants to focus on the game at hand, analyze his options and do well - even if it's just snooker against Andreas, he likes being able to focus, to be competitive. But his brain is going a million miles an hour, thinking about Naples ahead and the Pokal and arranging the end-of-season party and that no matter how amazing the season is right now he can't help wondering just when it's all going to fall apart. He takes a deep breath to try to refocus, but it's no use - his hand slips as he takes the shot, the black ball spinning wildly in the wrong direction.

Andreas blinks. "Are you okay, Fips?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, whatever. Just rusty. Haven't played since you left, you know." Philipp sighs in exasperation, then walks away from the table, putting his cue back on the rack before leaning his back up against the wall.

"Yeah, well, I haven't either. Still, this is pretty weird for you." Andreas puts his cue aside then places his hand on the wall near Philipp's shoulder. He's turned to look at Philipp in profile, leaning on the wall, weight on that arm. "You've got bags under your eyes, too. Haven't been sleeping well?"

"Yeah, well. The club and the national team keep me busy." He crosses his arms across his chest, presses his back against the wood paneling.

"Still, you should take better care of yourself." He grins. "There's got to be _some_ advantage to being captain, right? Ever taken advantage of it?"

Philipp rolls his eyes. "I may be a fan of putting on La Roux in the dressing room and playing ping pong at national team meetings, but I am not _that_ unprofessional, Andi."

"Oh come on. You're tense, they adore you, they'd do anything for their captain."

"I also am, you know, their captain. Last thing I need is to be accused of sexual harassment. Really, Andreas, this is ridiculous. I'm fine."

"It's not that if they're willing, and no, you're not fine. You're so tense you can't even get a shot correctly."

"Yeah, well, who's really willing? Or would they just be doing it to keep their captain happy?"

"Well." Andreas rotates his body to place his other hand above Philipp's other shoulder, pinning him in place without even touching him. "There is another solution to that problem, now isn't there?"

"Is that so?" Philipp's heart is pounding and he's sure his face is flushing, but he attempts to put up some kind of sense of modesty. He's probably not succeeding.

"You'd just have to find someone willing who doesn't have you as a captain."

"I don't do anonymous one night stands, Andi. It's not my thing. And it's too dangerous, anyway. Claudia may be understanding but not quite that far, and besides, the media's already at my throat." Despite the protest, he drops his hands to his sides, looking up, trying not to think too much of the sight of Andreas' eyes and their unreadable expression.

Andreas moves closer, their foreheads almost touching. "Who said anything about someone you didn't know?" It's nearly a whisper.

And there it is, Andreas breaking the final unnamed rule in their decades-long friendship.

Philipp nudges his forehead up and kisses Andreas, softly, barely more than a brush of lips on lips. Andreas responds with more kisses, hands moving from the wall to caress Philipp's shoulders.

"What do you want, Philipp?" Andreas' hands are moving now, one caressing Philipp's jaw, the other sliding down his side. "Not what you think is necessary, not what you think I want to do. What do _you_ want?"

"I want -" Philipp flushes, unsure of how to word things, how to not sound pushy or desperate. "I want you to make me come undone." He's surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.

Andreas smiles, then kisses Philipp again. He leans in, catching Philipp's ear between his lips, hands moving to unbutton his shirt. Philipp whimpers, eyes sliding closed, taking in every sensation.

The shirt slides easily off Philipp's shoulders and onto the floor. Things start moving quickly from there, Andreas' hands wandering across chest and stomach as he licks and sucks on a tendon in Philipp's neck Philipp didn't even know was sensitive. Philipp grasps at Andreas' back, fingers raking down, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Philipp's not really sure how, but somehow Andreas' shirt also disappears. Their bodies are pressed tight together, chest to chest, holding each other fiercely, kissing over and over, desperate, intense. Philipp thrusts his hips without thinking, sliding his clothed erection over Andreas', and he finds himself relishing the sound that pours from Andreas' lips, something between a moan and a prayer.

"I can," a harsh breath from Andreas, "I can make this feel even better. If you want it."

"I'm, uh, not exactly prepared for --"

"No, not that. Not now, anyway. Let me show you." And now Philipp's pants are around his ankles, followed by his underwear. He feels exposed and vulnerable to Andreas' gaze, even if he's seen him in the locker rooms more times than either of them can remember. "You really are so damn hot, Philipp," a whisper in his ear, then Philipp feels Andreas' hand around his erection, cold with some kind of lotion, and shudders.

Philipp leans his head back, not caring when he hears it hit the wall with a thud, not caring how obscene and lewd he'd look. His eyes are closed and his hands are squeezed tight around Andreas' arms. He thrusts into Andreas' hand, over and over, relishes the increasing friction and heat, moans loudly into Andreas' mouth when the hand twists over the sensitive head.

The hand drops suddenly and Philipp opens his eyes, ready to protest - but he loses the words when he sees Andreas stripping, mouth going dry at the intensely attractive man in front of him, eyes memorizing every inch of skin. Andreas captures Philipp's mouth in a kiss again, deep and passionate, and his hand is back - now holding both of their erections together, pressing them insistently against each other.

It's slick from the lotion, but not so much there's no friction at all; it's intimate in the closeness of their bodies but powerful from the repeated thrusting; it's a sex act that manages to neither be dominant nor submissive, equal pleasure between equals. It is intense and thrilling and so perfect, the friction of cock against cock, the warmth of bodies pressed together, the feel of Andreas' arms and back against Philipp's hands.

When Philipp comes, he feels like he is falling apart, all of the tension and apprehension and stress in his mind and body shattering into pieces, everything blanking out but the sensation of Andreas holding him, pressing on him, as if Andreas is the only thing holding him together.

They separate slowly, gingerly, shuddering in the sudden chill of their bodies apart.

"T-thanks, Andi."

"Anytime, Fips. I mean it. You need a break, you let me know."

"Guess you have a reason to come back, then?"

"Always."


End file.
